


They Know We’re Alright

by Alliswell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Family Fluff, Father's Day, Grief/Mourning, Lullabies, One Shot, Pre-Epilogue Mockingjay, Toastbaby Girl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliswell/pseuds/Alliswell
Summary: Bittersweet Father’s Day piece for my dear Rachel.Katniss and Peeta miss their fathers, after their baby’s birth. They assure themselves through lullabies.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 29
Kudos: 78





	They Know We’re Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MegaAuLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaAuLover/gifts).



> For MegaAuLover. I ❤️ U! 
> 
> This piece has not been betaed. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Also I do not own THG.

“Shuuuush… it’s alright. You’re awake now.” I whisper tenderly, rocking him gently until his ragged breathing peters out and his heart rate slows to normal.

Peeta calms down some more before asking, “Tell me something from when you were little,” He sniffles meekly with his head resting on my chest, adding in a rush, “It… it wasn’t bad, exactly. It wasn’t a nightmare.” He huffs.

“Okay. That’s good.” I assure him, rubbing his back soothingly.

“My father. He was hugging me, smiling at me. Looking so proud. I don’t think I ever saw him smile that much, ever. But when I tried to hug him back…” he starts trembling like a leaf.

Usually, when he wakes from venom induced nightmares, shivering and covered in sweat, he asks for a story from my childhood. I learned pretty quickly that when Peeta wants to hear stories from when I was little, he actually means he wants a ‘happy’ story; something removed from the grief and hunger, something untouched by the games, and the war. But he says he’s not shaken by his hijacking, but by the helplessness, the deep, numb emptiness of grief.

I tighten my arms around him. I’m not his father, and mine will never be a replacement for the baker’s thick, heavy arms, but I put all my love and understanding into the hug, to try and comfort him, because I know how he feels.

Ever since we learned the Little One was on her way to us, dreams from his long lost family have plagued him at night, some better than others, all so full of longing and devastation. I feel it too, but not as acute as he does. His fears are very different than mine in that regard; where his mother’s voice rankles that he might not be a good enough daddy to our child, I fear I won’t be able to protect her from the harsh world, but when the fears rear their ugly heads up, we chop them off together as best we can; still playing the game and fighting off threats together.

“Alright… let me think,” I say while carding my fingers through his sweaty curls.

At first, when we started growing back together and he asked for happy stories, all I had to do was close my eyes and picture kid me skipping around, singing in the woods with my father, and the tales would come out like a stream from the river, but, I only had so many happy memories to pull from, and soon, the stream became a trickle and then the trickle dwindled until it dried up.

I found myself retelling stories over and over again, because the alternative was to wallow in sadness, and we couldn’t do that anymore. Peeta doesn’t mind repeats anyway. But once in a blue moon, I find deep within my mind, a hidden treasure, and it’s like the first winds of Spring, sweet and warm, soothing us both; I can’t help but to keep digging for them just to see him perk up right after one of his episodes or one of his nightmares, he still does so much to pull out of my own darkness, is the least I can do.

Tonight, I have one such gem, which is perfect for the topic of fatherhood.

“So, when I was around nine, my father told me about a song in some old, forgotten language. Something from before the Dark Days.”

Peeta tilts his head up to peer expectant, red-rimmed, blue eyes at me. “New story,” he says quizzically. Hopeful. Voice rough and raspy.

“It is.” I say, “I just remembered it recently. You wanna hear it?”

He smiles faintly and nods. My own lips curl at the seams, and I can't help to hope that our baby girl inherits his smile.

“My father said that when he was a little boy, his mother would sing all kinds of songs. Stuff she’d heard from her folks growing up, when people were free to roam Panem, and the districts had no fences… like today.”

Peeta nods.

“Well, my father said his mother had a remarkable memory when it came to music. She could recall lyrics and melody, even if she heard it only once. Even this one song she heard in a funny language, gone from Panem since before the Dark Days. She didn’t know what it was called this language, but she learned it from some people her folks met in one of their travels between the districts. They told my grandmother the words were about a young woman’s father; she was trying to tell him through song how she found her courage from him, and how she longed to give him back time gone from them.”

“Did he teach you the song?” Peeta asks hopeful. “Could you sing it for me?”

“I only remember bits and pieces, and I’m not even sure I’m saying the words right, but if you want to hear it, I can try.”

I open my mouth, and let the shaky words come out of my very rusty memory, hoping they really sound like they should.

“ _Con tus besos despertábamos,  
Tu dormías mientras sister y yo  
Íbamos a aquella escuela que  
Nos decías "Vais para aprender".  
Y a vivir nos enseñabas tu  
Cada día mas aún,  
Con tus ojos llenos de ese amor  
Por dos hijas locas de ilusión.  
Qué no haría yo  
Por que el tiempo no se fuera, no._

_Y es así,  
Soy como tu._

_Cada sonrisa  
Y cada lágrima._

_He adquirido tu coraje.  
Y he aprendido a saber en quién confiar  
En la vida sigo sin dudar,  
Mi camino en este viaje por ti,  
Junto a ti.  
He adquirido tu coraje.”_

I finish with a flourish and sigh peacefully, with my eyes closed.

“That was beautiful.” Peeta says after a moment, rubbing his hand over the arm I have wrapped across his chest. “Thank you.”

“Mmm. Thank you for being a patient audience.”

He places a kiss to the crook of my elbow, and pats my arm again. “Katniss… do you still dream about him? Your father?”

I scrunch up my face a little. “Not as much anymore.” I frown. At least, not the nightmares that used to plague me. “I do think of him a lot more now, sometimes a song of his just burst into my head, and before I know it, I’m humming it along with the memories I have of him.”

“Does it help to feel closer to him, singing?”

I shrug one shoulder. “It helps some.” I try to organize a thought, and then I tell him, “People will tell you, that with time, you’ll miss your folks less, and it’s true, in part. Do you remember how it was the first year without them? How missing them hurt just for the fact of knowing they were really gone, and you could never speak to them anymore? Well, sometimes my grief would mix with hunger pains, and I had to double over with the ache.”

Peeta sits up, cups my cheek into his warm hand, and wipes a wayward tear away with his thumb, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We don’t have to keep talking about it.”

“No… I just wanted to say, after all these years, grief doesn’t really go away. But the hurt becomes part of you, and then is like getting used to missing them—“

“It’s your ‘new normal’.” He says quietly.

The ‘new normal’. A concept we’ve discussed with Dr Aurelios for the past few years, both together and in separate sessions.

“It’s not too bad after a while. Sure, sometimes the reality hits you that you can’t share all the new, good things in your current life with the ones gone, but it becomes less frequent, and then, you start to remember the good times, and you just know that wherever they are, they’re fine,”

“Not burning in the Citadel, or under the unforgiving earth,”

“Or in a flaming bakery.” I concede. It was the thing we told ourselves to be able to sleep at night right after the war. “Or sick, or injured, or suffering any maladies or hunger. They’re fine, and hopefully, they’re happy.”

“I think… I think my father knows.” He says pursing his lips in concentration, his hands now holding mine, twining our fingers together. “I mean, you said, we can’t share our current good news because they’re gone, but… during my dream… well, he was there to congratulate me on the Little One, and his smile…” he pauses and finally a slight grin breaks into his handsome face, “He knew. I could tell!”

“That’s good, Peeta. I feel the same way about Prim.”

We stay silent for a moment, clutching at each other for comfort and assurance. No more words are needed, and I’m about to suggest we try going back to sleep, but the baby wakes up in her little bassinet in the warmest corner of the room, and I just resign myself to stay awake, feed her.

I stretch my legs and move to stand, but Peeta takes my wrist gently, “I’ll go, you stay. I’ll change her diaper and bring her to you to nurse.” He says, almost imploringly.

He stands then, and comes to the tiny crib, cooing and soothing the meowling child. He lifts the bundle close to his chest, and rocks her into the cradle of his strong, thick arms. He’s humming some ancient lullaby he sang to her since early on in my belly, and the little girl stops her cries almost at once. He changes her diaper, while speaking softly to her, explaining the process.

“Soiled wraps go away, and in its place we have freshly laundered rags dipped in baby oil to clean and protect your delicate skin! And now that your tail is clean and hydrated, papa will lift your chubby lamb legs, and slip the new diaper, right under your tushy. There’s my baby girl!” He smiles broadly and my heart fills with so much love for my little family, I have no doubt my father can feel it wherever he is.

Peeta’s right… they might be gone, but they know!

Despite being gone, They know we’re alright.

“Without further ado, little lady, I’ll bring you to mama, to nurse.” He places the baby into my arms, and sits next to me in the bed, smiling love-struck at us, until the child is ready to burp.

He takes her from me, and again hums his lullaby as he rocks her over his wide shoulder to burp. He’s a wiz with babies! Although hers are the first diapers he’s ever changed, and the first baby to bathe and burp. Is a mystery how the ghost of his mother sometimes undermines his confidence, since he’s made for fathering.

I come to snake my arms around his waist once he’s laid our baby back in her cradle.

“You’re a good Daddy, Peeta. I couldn’t have asked for a better man to raise a child with.” I kiss his shoulder blade, and rest my temple to his bicep so we can both look down at our sleeping infant as her tiny mouth puckers in placid dreams.

He turns in my arms, wrapping his around my back to pull me in close. “You’re an amazing Mommy too, Sweetheart. You make me believe I can be a good father for her. Thank you for loving me, trusting me and giving me the honor to raise a child with you.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m still terrified about being a dad, but… we have each other. We can do this.”

“Together,”

“Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Partial lyrics to “El Motivo de mi Viaje” by Laura Pausini. Translated to English from its original Spanish by yours truly… 😊
> 
> _With your kisses we’d wake up,  
>  You slept while Silvia and I  
> went to that school that  
> You said “You go to learn”.  
> To live you taught us  
> Every day more,  
> With your eyes full of love  
> For two daughters crazy with illusion  
> What wouldn’t I do  
> For the time to not go, no_
> 
> _And is such,  
>  I am like you. _
> 
> _Every smile  
>  And every tear._
> 
> _I’ve acquired your courage.  
>  And I’ve learned to know in who to trust  
> In life I continue without doubt,  
> My path in this trip, for you,  
> Next to you.  
> I’ve acquired (inherited) your courage._
> 
> You can check out the video of this song on my tumblr @alliswell21  
> ——
> 
> So, this is for MegaAuLover, because I ❤️ Her, we both melt for Spanish-speaking!Everlark, and we are both missing our Dads. Mine left 10 years ago, hers only a few months back. Time passes, but their shape in our hearts stay the same. 
> 
> I based Daddy!Peeta here on my husband, who’s a wiz with babies, although theirs were the first (and only) diapers he’s ever changed. He loved bathing them, burping them, and rocking them to sleep, and now he’s their favorite person in the whole world! 
> 
> For all those fathers that have learn to be good daddies to their littles, keep up the good work!
> 
> Everyone else: Remember, life— time— doesn’t stop, or slow down... enjoy time and life now. Make good memories and love fiercely. And if you have one, call or hug your dad if you’re able to. Be a good parent. Be a good sibling, be the one person everyone is happy to see.


End file.
